


Soldier on

by Im_a_fangirl_of_the_Lord



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Graphic Description, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Panic Attacks, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_a_fangirl_of_the_Lord/pseuds/Im_a_fangirl_of_the_Lord
Summary: Greg and Mycroft are forced to work together on a case, while Greg has to fight aginst mental problems. The murder reveals their feelings for each other and they have to work things out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, anxiety disorder and later on panic attacks
> 
> The biggest thanks goes to Paialovespie and blue-posey. Especially Paia helped me throughout the whole process of writing and was the biggest support and motivation for me! Blue was an incredible beta reader, without whom I would've made so many more grammatical mistakes and plotholes. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO BOTH OF THEM!
> 
> Now, I hope you enjoy the story and I'd love to hear your opinion <3 Have fun

The strong, familiar scent of coffee filled his nose as he poured the black liquid into his favourite cup. Normally he would drink it with milk but he needed something strong today. The man he was enamoured with, stood only a few feet away from him at New Scotland Yard, and Greg still couldn't reach him. Not in the way he wanted to. Mycroft was out of his league and both of them knew it.   
He had asked Mycroft for a date once. Greg can still remember every tiny detail of that moment. His own heartbeat had felt so loud, he was sure Mycroft could hear it too.

The politician’s usual polite expression was halted by a moment of surprise. Greg saw his mind quickly calculating, forgetting to keep the steady face upright. After a second that felt like an hour, he finally responded, "I'm sorry, Inspector but I believe that would be unwise."  
It was all a blur after this sentence. Greg had stammered and ran out of the room with the excuse he had still lots of paperwork to do. How could he have thought Mycroft would go on a date with him?

He drowned the memory with a big draught of coffee and made his way back to his office. As he opened the door, a voice called him back. 

"Detective Inspector. May I have a word with you?"   
Greg prepared himself internally before he turned around. Luckily, after more than 20 years on this job, he was experienced in putting on his professional mask. 

"Mycroft, how can I help you?"

Mycroft’s professional mask was visible too but neither of them wanted to put it down.  
"Might I talk to you privately? It's about Sherlock."

"Uh... Sure. Sure, come in", he said and pushed the door open. The coffee found a place in its usual spot right next to the computer, and Lestrade sat down in his chair. Mycroft gracefully sat down opposite him and took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"I'm concerned about Sherlock. He recently started to get into contact with certain...people again. I would be very grateful if you could keep an eye on him." 

Mycroft seemed honestly worried. The last time he saw him with real emotions was in the hospital after Sherlock overdosed again. It had been years but it would stick with Greg until the end of his days. Sherlock pale in his bed, without any motion, the heart rate monitor barely showing any sign of life. A memory he'd like to forget.

"Inspector?" Greg was pulled out of his thoughts.

"Yes. Sure. I'll watch him as well as I can. And don't you dare offer me money again."

"Very well. However, you are free to accept the monetary contribution at any time."  
Greg leant back in his chair, trying to put some distance between them. He needed to stay professional now and keep his mask up. "Mycroft, I know you’ve memorized everything about me and you know about payments to my ex but I don't accept money from friends," he paused then added hastily, "or people I know in general."

"It's your choice. I just want clarity about Sherlock’s current state of mind." He glanced quickly at his phone. "My apologies, Lestrade, but I have to go. An urgent matter appears to be in need of my attention."

"Yes, of course. You take care of that and I'll take care of Sherlock. Deal?" Greg wasn't sure if he was dreaming when he saw the hint of a smile on Mycroft’s lips. It only lasted a fraction of a second and was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Agreed." They both stood up and the DI opened the door to guide him out. In the doorway Mycroft said a last "Good evening" and then he was gone. 

Greg closed the door again and sat back down. He turned around in his chair to be out of sight before he closed his eyes and sighed. Possible realities flashed before his eyes, realities he’d imagined over and over again. In sleepless nights his mind had started to create universes where he felt safe, loved and secure. Each and every one of them contained Mycroft. He was always by his side and they were happy - in his thoughts. A different reality he formed merely to scale down his feelings of loneliness and sadness. He hadn’t told anyone about it because they would just tell him what he already knew: it was stupid, foolish, sad and childish. Nevertheless, there was a comfort in his life and a safe haven he could flee into. 

Greg reached for his mug and looked out of the window, drifting back to the last moment he imagined. It was a weekend and they just got up to make breakfast and maybe have a walk later. The story had developed far by now. The starting point was their first date but, in this universe, it wasn't their last one. He imagined Mycroft was his official partner by now and their life was filled with happiness and joy. Sometimes reality wasn't bearable anymore when he compared it with this version of life. 

It felt silly, all of it. He shook his head and turned back to his stack of paperwork. Even my teenage-self was less pathetic than I am now, he thought and put his signature under a report. John had talked to him last weekend. After the third pint, Greg finally opened up and told him about it all - about the lack of energy, the hours he spent in bed, watching the sun go by and the incredible need to really feel again. His friend had just nodded. After a moment he’d said that he’d experienced something similar in the past. The serviette with the phone number of John’s therapist was still in his coat pocket.

But Greg couldn't bring himself to call her. He wasn't depressed. These were not the best years of his life certainly, but that's not the same as depression. Though, he had to admit sometimes it felt like this job was sucking every will to live out of him. The colours seemed less vivid. His life felt duller and more useless than ever. But that's life. There are ups and downs and this was definitely a down but it could only get better from now on. Hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

The car door shut quietly and the privacy screen rose without a word. His sigh filled the back of the car as the black Mercedes Benz drove away. Mycroft shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest. He avoided these kinds of meetings at all costs but Sherlock’s protection was his highest priority and no irrational feelings would ever stop him from fulfilling this goal.

Gregory Alexander Lestrade. The man who wouldn’t leave his mind. Especially not since he had asked him out on a date. There was still a chance for a happy ending but it was outweighed by the risks a relationship would bring along. 

Contrary to most people’s opinions, which he had influenced, Mycroft's position wasn't a minor one. He held regular meetings with the Prime Minister, under clear safety measures of course.

"There is no room for personal relations in this job. You have to decide, Mycroft. It's either a partner or the job." That's what they’d told him 23 years and 7 weeks ago. His decision to take the job seemed rational and was, therefore, the best one. He never regretted his choice but the lack of passion and love in his life was still noticeable.

Mycroft was turning 46 in less than a month and the last real relationship he'd had ended with the beginning of his career. There had been other men in the last decades of course, but none of them was allowed to stay longer than 24 hours in his life. They were only there to satisfy certain needs.

He always arranged for them to meet in a high-class hotel where no one asked questions. The payment for their services had at least four digits including an extra tip. Nevertheless, Mycroft was prepared and had a file about them to avoid even the slightest possibility of blackmailing. 

He would pay a lot to spend one of these nights with Gregory. Greg’s suggestion to go on a date was all he could've dreamt of but his professional situation made it virtually impossible at the moment. There were, of course, ways and means to get into a relationship. It required lots of paperwork and negotiations with his superior which was the biggest burden. There was no way Lestrade would go through all of that just to have perhaps two dates with him. He would be fed up with him before the bureaucracy necessary for a long-lasting relationship was completed?

Another sigh escaped Mycroft’s lips, his head still spinning. He let the privacy screen down. “Charlie? Could you please drive me home? I am going to work in my private office today.” 

“Of course, Mr Holmes. Shall I inform Mrs Allister?”  
Mycroft thought about it for a moment though he knew he needed to do it himself. 

“No thank you, Charlie. I'll call Anthea myself.” The black screen elegantly slid back up and silence surrounded him again. He quietly pressed the green button and heard the phone ring twice before it was answered. Mycroft quickly and impassively explained the situation, leaving out his wild mixture of feelings and the role the Inspector was playing. 

By the time Mycroft hung up and had everything organized, he already had the keys to his front door in his hand. The car drove off and made his way back to the office to pick up Anthea. He typed several codes into the security system and opened the safe in his private office. The room was furnished with old and wooden furnishings.

The computer had just finished booting when the invitation to the video and China came up. Mycroft gave himself another second to collect his thoughts before answering the call. Negotiations often lasted several hours and this time it wasn't different. By 6 pm both parties agreed to continue the meeting another day. 

Mycroft shut the laptop and put it back to its usual place. He rubbed his neck, trying to alleviate his headache, but without success. The chair made a slight squeaking noise as he leaned back and opened his jacket and waistcoat. 

This day had been a complete disaster. The encounter with Lestrade wouldn't leave his mind. Since the day Mycroft declined a date Gregory seemed sadder with every week that passed. He didn't dare to attribute the DI’s current state solely to his rejection but something was definitely wrong in the other man’s life.   
When his stomach growled and he realised that he hadn't eaten anything today, he called the phone number of his favourite delivery service and placed his order. 

It took him all of his willpower to get up and go to his bedroom to change into more a more casual grey wool pullover and black trousers. His shoes were abandoned in the hallway and Mycroft suddenly realised that very few people had ever seen him so casual. 

He finished preparing the tea as the doorbell rang. After a few more minutes his Indian food was finally put onto the table. His mind kept replaying a certain moment of the morning over and over again. Lestrade’s cheeky smile was going to be the death of him someday. But not only his appearance was devastating, Gregory was also loyal, kind, open-minded, modest, reliable and trustworthy. All in all, he was just perfect. 

His body seemed to move automatically since he couldn't remember cleaning the dishes or going into the movie room. The film he put on was only there for the background noises. His loneliness was less of a burden when the house wasn't completely silent. Mycroft's wish not to be alone anymore was very difficult to change. Of course, there was only one man he would want but Mycroft had given him the impression that he wasn't interested in him. It was his own fault, after all. 

It was a restless night and late in the night he made the final decision that he was going to take care of it. He was going to fill in the papers for close personal relationships and then have several meetings with his superior to discuss precautions, only to have the chance to ask Gregory for a second chance and a date. The paperwork would be a nightmare but it was possible for him to take care of the first few dates alone. Further developments required interrogations of both partners. Hopefully, it would be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

The buzzing of the alarm nearly made Greg’s phone drop from the desk. He caught it just in time, turned the alarm off and started closing the documents, getting ready to leave. It was four o’clock anyway and the appointment with his therapist was more important than the current file which would have to wait until tomorrow. 

The first time he went to her, his hands were shaking slightly and he had stayed in the parked car for 10 minutes until he finally summoned the courage to enter the house. Within the last two weeks, they talked about the basic things, the divorce and his job. They were going to discuss further options and if he needed medications today and the closer the appointment got the more nervous he became. 

He had just put his coat on as Sally knocked on the glass door. “Sorry, Sir, but we just got a case in. A Senior Consultant for MI5 was found murdered in a car park near the SIS building.”   
Greg sighed and pulled his phone out, already searching for Ella Thompson’s number. “Call Anderson and tell him to be prepared, we probably won’t be alone. I'll drive.”   
Sally kept typing while she walked next to him.   
"A senior consultant you said? Do we have a name?" He tried to keep the concern out of his voice, though it didn't completely work out.   
"Not yet, sir. But I know who you're thinking of and no, it's not the freak’s brother. We would've been told if he were."   
He nodded, they got into the car and the Sergeant started to make several phone calls. 

Greg logged his phone into the speakerphone and finally called Ella.   
“Greg, I thought I would see you soon. Has something come up?”   
Lestrade quickly glanced towards Sally who had finished her call and was now typing something into her phone. “Yes, I'm sorry. We just got a big case in and I won't be able to keep our appointment today.” While they talked he ran through a red light and parked next to the park entrance. Sally gave him a side glance but didn't make a comment when Ella said goodbye and called him ‘Greg’ a second time.

They walked up to Anderson who stood next to the victim. The corpse was covered up with a plastic cover but puddles of blood spread out beneath it. Drops of blood were visible all over the pavement and seemed to be closer together at the consultant’s head, creating a pattern. 

“What do we have, Anderson?” Phillip kneeled down and lifted the cover, revealing the victim. “Two shots in the head from a close distance, probably with a silencer. We have two witnesses who said they heard faint bangs but didn’t think of anything.”

“Who was the poor bastard?” 

“Harrison Cole, Senior Consultant for MI5.”   
A black car caught his sight and a vague thought crossed his mind. 

Five men in black suits left the car and made their way to the crime scene. One of them only quickly showed a small card to one of the constables before they were allowed to walk through under the yellow tape. Greg's theory was confirmed when he finally recognised Mycroft in the middle of the group. It all seemed like a bad action movie. “It simply won't get better,” he murmured to himself. 

The DI walked over to the group and concentrated on Mycroft. “Mycroft, what are you doing here?” he asked as two of the men walked away and vanished out of his sight. One of them stayed by Mycroft’s side, probably his bodyguard.   
“I'm here in my capacity as an MI5 operative. We will take this case over. It is no longer your responsibility.”

It took Greg a moment to process the new development. “You cannot just take away our case. We have already started interviewing witnesses and working on the case.” A flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked in the direction and a group of reporters took the opportunity to take more pictures. Greg rubbed his eyes, dazzled by the flashlights. “Get them away from here!” he barked and turned back to Mycroft.

Mycroft watched him for another moment while turning around to escape the photographs. “I guess we cannot avoid a collaboration between New Scotland Yard and MI5 now.” 

The flutter in Mycroft’s stomach didn't show up on his face. Working together was going to be hard with his current emotional state. Another thought crossed his mind. He had wanted to ask Gregory out for a date soon but now it would have to wait, to maintain their professional relationship during this case. 

Lestrade was talking to him and it seemed like his body was on autopilot again, nodding at the right time. He quickly slipped out of his own mind and got back into reality and approached the body.

Anderson carefully lifted the cover so the blood didn’t smear anymore. It was bad enough that they hadn’t had enough time to clean up the crime scene without being watched. The last thing they needed now was a contaminated corpse.

Mycroft took a look at his former colleague. The face wasn't recognizable anymore. Several shots had been fired from a close distance, directly in the head. It was a mess made out of blood, bone and brain. He kneeled down and examined the body before getting up and turning towards Greg.

Lestrade nodded to Anderson and he lowered the cover again. 

“At least two shots from a close distance. He had no chance.” 

Greg put a hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Mycroft. You probably knew him personally. We're fine with this case. You don't have to work on it too.”

The small contact had an instant effect on both of them. Greg's heart made a little jump, and a shiver ran down Mycroft’s back, but neither of them noticed the reaction of the other, both concentrated on themselves. After another heartbeat, Mycroft shook his head. “No, we have to solve this case as quickly as possible. MI5 is trained for special circumstances like this.” After a small pause he went on. “Did you notice his watch? The glass broke, probably when he fell as there are a few shards around his wrist, but his clock hands point at 12.00 sharp.”

Lestrade just nodded. “I know. It reminds me of another case we had a while back. I think I recognize a pattern but I have to make some research. You've got my number, if you have any questions, just call me. But please do me a favour and don't let any of your subordinates act on their own. We need to work together, in every aspect.” Mycroft nodded. He left Mycroft behind and headed towards Sally, asking her to take care of the crime scene as he headed back to NSY to read old files and find the case he was looking for. 

The car was too silent for his own thoughts so he turned on the radio. Mycroft remained in his thoughts for the rest of the day. Thanks to his long discussions with Ella, Greg now had a proper label for the feelings he harboured for Mycroft. But he was still a mess. Most days it took him all of his willpower just to get out of bed, he didn't have the energy for dating, let alone a relationship.


	4. Chapter 4

Pitch black coffee dripped through the filter into the jug beneath it. Sally watched the drops, enjoying the last few seconds of her much-needed break. She had been in the office since 7 o'clock that morning thinking she would be the first one to arrive. However, Lestrade had already been working when she opened the conference room door, reading old files, perusing the witness reports one more time. 

She wondered if he’d gone home at all. He wore a new shirt, though that could be one of the emergency shirts he kept in the office. Over the years of their career, long days became long nights more and more often. 

Donovan poured two cups of coffee for them and made her way across to the conference room. MI5 was on its way here and New Scotland Yard was suddenly as lively as never before. It seemed like a buzzing beehive. Everyone knew about the case and wanted to help. 

She carefully entered the still-empty conference room and put down the cups. 

“Sally, did I ever tell that you are the best?” 

She smiled and turned around. “Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it. How is preparation going?” 

Greg sighed and put the papers he just brought onto the table. “As well as possible in this situation. But Mycroft and his team will be here in the next few minutes and I still have a lot to do.”

Sally smiled at him and pushed the cup across the table, towards Greg. 

“Got the hint”, she said and left quickly. Greg allowed himself a break of two minutes and downed his fourth coffee of the day. 

It was afternoon now and last night was starting to catch up with him. He hadn’t been able to sleep so he had gone back to the office and worked through the files, trying to find a connection to older cases. It was worth it though. He now knew that the murderer was called- 

Greg’s thoughts were interrupted by the door opening behind him.  
“Detective Inspector Lestrade, it’s good to see you again.” Greg focused on reality again and set down his empty mug. 

“Mycroft, good to see you too. I just finished everything so we can start in 2 minutes. I'll just quickly get the team”, he said and left the room. Mycroft had probably detected his lie but it didn't matter right now if he was finished or not. He had a clue who the murderer was and that's what mattered. 

Within the next few minutes, a combination of the MI5 agents and New Scotland Yard's finest filled the conference room. Mycroft stood in a corner at the very end of the room and Greg lost sight of him. 

Nervousness began to rise in the DI’s abdomen. He had always hated speaking in front of people and his anxiety level rose in situations like these. The difference now was that he had control over them. Before he entered the conference room Greg took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds and slowly breathed out.

***

Mycroft left his Mind Palace and breathed out carefully. Just then the door opened again and DI Lestrade strode in. His shoulders were straight , his head slightly lifted and it was obvious that he had changed in the last few weeks.However not in a negative way. Ella was in fact a great help. 

Mycroft watched him put down the file and start the presentation. Silence spread in the room immediately. Greg waited for another second to make sure everyone's attention was on him.

“Yesterday the Senior Consultant of MI5, Harrison Cole, was found in the car park next to the SIS building. He was killed with two shots in the head from a close distance.” The next slide with several articles popped up. They all had today's date on them, some with the victims face, some with a picture of the covered-up body. “He was killed between four and five o’clock, although his watch broke when he fell. His clock hands point at 12 o’clock sharp, so it was adjusted afterwards by the murderer.”

“The journalists have overdone themselves and there is a huge fuss among the people. This is why we will work on this case together with MI5. I will lead the case and Mycroft Holmes will be the contact point for MI5 and will oversee their side of the investigations. If you have any questions you can ask us.“ His eyes wandered up from the paper to Mycroft. Their eyes locked and didn't part until he had finished the thought and had to look back down to skim the file again. 

“The pattern of the murder seemed familiar to me so I searched for a previous case with similarities. In 2003 we hunted down a serial killer who killed five people, merely to get attention. Robert Black was never arrested. He fled before we caught him.”

“But how could this happen?” Sally asked. “I read the report. You were perfectly prepared and knew his exact location. How was he able to know you were on your way?” Greg looked at her and decided to take the risk.

“What I'm telling you now is confidential information. Anyone who talks about this outside this room will lose their security level and job. Are we clear?”, he said in a strict and commanding tone. Mycroft decided to save this part in his Mind Palace and analyse it later. He had to concentrate right now. 

“He left his phone behind and we were able to examine it. Somebody from our old team worked with Black and gave him every detail. We were able to track the number back to a disposable phone, belonging to Sergeant Jon White.” He paused for a moment and let his eyes wander through the room. He found Mycroft’s watchful eyes again and continued. 

“This won’t happen again. You were chosen because you are the best and most loyal officers of New Scotland Yard. You were granted the highest security level a policeman can reach. The next few weeks are going to be challenging but everyone here is needed to bring justice to the victim.” There was a pause after he had finished. He looked directly at Mycroft and asked “ Mr. Holmes, do you have anything else to add?”

A short smile crossed his expression, only visible to Greg. “No, Detective Inspector. However, Johnson and Spencer will start working on viewing CCTV to find evidence. They could use help from additional men.” Greg nodded; his eyes never leaving Mycroft. “Of course. Davis, Rogers, that’s your part. The rest of you know what to do.”

Before anyone left the room Sherlock stormed in and was just about to say something but Greg interrupted him. “No! In my office!” He pointed in the direction and walked towards the younger Holmes, who was visibly confused. A quick glance at Mycroft made it clear that he should also follow them. A spike of arousal rose up in Mycroft's stomach. He always had a thing for strict orders and commands. 

Lestrade closed the door behind them as soon as they were in his office. “What do you want, Sherlock?”   
“You have the most interesting case in years! Decades! And you didn’t tell me! I'm only allowed to work on the most boring and simple cases since I'm an official consultant of NSY. Let me work on this case, Lestrade! I'm dying of boredom!” Sherlock had stopped his pacing through the room and stared at Greg. 

“Sherlock,” Mycroft and Lestrade began at the same time. They both stopped and looked at each other. Greg walked towards his desk and leant against it. 

“Go on, Mycroft. You have more experience with him.” Mycroft gave a slight nod and turned his attention back to Sherlock. 

“This case is a concern of National Security. You tend to use alternative ways to solve your cases but we cannot tolerate it in this -” 

“At least do I solve my problems,’Sherlock interrupted. When was the last time MI5 was able to do so? Not since you became the head of them! They were a horrible organisation before but you made everything worse.”

“Enough!” Sherlock stopped in the middle of his monologue, being unaccustomed to Lestrade raising his voice. “Sherlock, Mycroft and I are of the same opinion. You will not work on this case. You just proved to us again why that would be a bad idea. I could give you a smaller case you could work on but in no way will you work on this one, not until we specifically ask you to. Do you understand?”

The look he gave the DI was nothing new. He scanned him from top to bottom, probably saw everything he had done within the last few days. Mycroft used his ability rarely, only when it was absolutely needed. Sherlock on the other hand made use of it whenever he felt inferior or wanted to prove something. Without another word Sherlock left the room. 

Greg watched him go and shook his head. “We will never understand him, will we?” Mycroft thought of their childhood and adolescence. 

“No, it's very unlikely.” His phone began to ring and he quickly checked the number. “Excuse me, Detective Inspector. My superiors want an update on the case.”

He accepted the call and left the room quickly. After several minutes of talking in the empty conference room, he ended the call and left. On his way out of New Scotland Yard he saw his brother standing in the lobby. Doctor Watson was obviously trying to calm him down. 

“Sherlock, what are you still doing here?” They turned towards him and Mycroft greeted John. 

“I want this case Mycroft! I know you need help with it. Let me work this out.” 

How often had they had a conversation like this? Mycroft had stopped counting years ago. His little brother always asked, no ordered him to do something for him. But if Mycroft needed his help Sherlock often refused it, played his games with him. It had been like this since their childhood. His younger brother often showed him that he was only adopted and not the biological sibling. However, their parents had never treated them differently . 

“No. I'm not going to help you. I've told you, Sherlock, this case is very important and you won't do anything, unless we ask you.” 

Sherlock smirked and laid his head to the side. “We? You obviously care a lot about him. But why?” John looked around, probably feeling uncomfortable. Mycroft looked at his brother annoyed. He was just about to say something but Sherlock interrupted him. 

“You have a crush on him,” he exclaimed with triumph. Luckily, the lobby was mostly empty so no one had heart it. Only Doctor Watson had heard it and was looking at him with surprise. “Don't be silly. I've never had - ‘a crush’ in my life.” 

“Oh really? I could call Mummy and she would definitely remind you of our gardener.” He turned towards John. “Our parents caught them in the back of our garden. What was his name? Luke?”

“Lucas,” he corrected Sherlock and immediately regretted it. John bit his lip and grinned and so did Sherlock. “I don't have time for this. I have more important things to do.” 

“Yes, you do.” Lestrade approached from behind and looked at Mycroft. “We have another victim. Do you want to come with us?” 

A quick, warning glance at Sherlock was his last action before he turned his attention back to Lestrade. “I'm sorry, Inspector. I have an upcoming meeting I have to attend.”

“Doctor Watson. Detective Inspector. Sherlock,” he said at last and left the building. The awaiting car took off as soon as he sat down. Mycroft massaged his temples. The coming weeks were going to be a real challenge, especially with Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 5

The industrial district became a familiar location to Greg. He had lost count on how many corpses they had found here, however, the number was incredibly high. 

One of his first cases had started here; when he was still a Constable. A woman was shot directly in the heart by her husband. It turned out that she had had an affair and that their son was actually the child of her and his brother. At the time he couldn’t imagine how anyone could cheat on their partner. He was still so young and so naive. 

Karen had started having affairs five years into their marriage; at least that’s what Sherlock had told him. Greg had loved her with all of his heart but only in the last few months he stopped regretting it. This was a part of him and made him the man he is now. She has made him stronger; showed him his true self.

As he entered the empty production hall he heard his own footsteps echo. Little light came through the industrial windows, which were additionally secured by bars. The heavy walls protected the factory from any environmental influences, which made the hall remarkably cold. A chill ran down Gregs back, making him shiver. Goosebumps (add fitting verb here) on his arms and he felt how the familiar knot in his stomach formed.

He approached his team and the headlights pointed at the victim, were the only other source of light. They reflected in the puddles on the floor which were leaking under the plastic sheet, separating the crime scene from the rest of the hall. The fluid covered most of the floor and there were several footprints next to it. When Greg realised that it was blood his stomach clenched, though he suppressed the urge to vomit.

Donovan came towards him with a notebook in her hand. She seemed paler than usual. “Sir- before you go in there you should know that he made a massacre out of the victims.” Greg took another look at the puddles of blood to his right before he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Sally.” 

With another deep breath, he stepped through the sheets. The scene in front of him would never leave his mind again. He had never seen anything like this before. A man and a woman were kneeling in front of him and were attached by thin strings to the ceiling, keeping them in their position. Their back was cut open and the skin was drawn to the sides, also held in place by strings. A vertical, white line in the middle stood in clear contrast to the deep red blood. Every single vortex of their spines was visible.

“Oh god”, Greg whispered as he kept looking at the corpses. He forced himself to take a step forward and examined the faces of these poor bastards. Their eyes were wide open, staring into nothing. Greg swore that he could still see their fear and pain. Another wave of sickness was blocked by the shock and disbelief that this was in fact reality.

From this perspective the skin and position made them look like angels. Every single detail seemed arranged; from the exact position of their legs to the distance between them. It was all planned out. Only their stare didn’t fit into the scene Robert Black had designed. It seemed like they were staring at a precise point in -

Greg pulled out his torch and turned it on. He made sure he followed the exact line of view as the torch illuminated the darkness. He saw shadows of his colleagues go by and heard their voices become more distant.  
After he had finally passed his team, the opposite wall slowly became visible. A drop was running down which Greg caught with his finger. Terrified by his discovery that it was blood he stumbled a few steps back; his flashlight sweeping over the wall. 

“I need a headlight here!”, he shouted and his voice shook a little and so was his hand. Greg’s order was instantly passed on. Anderson and two of his colleagues came to lighten up the space around him.

Huge letters, written with blood, now decorated the wall: “YOU ARE THE NEXT ONE, LESTRADE”. 

He heard someone murmur “Jesus Christ” beside him, though it was nearly audible over his own heartbeat. 

The blood pounded in his ears. His vision disfigured as if he was looking through a fish-eye lens. He had to get away. He had to get out of here.   
He clasped his phone in his cold-sweated hand and quickly typed a message -not clearly seeing the letters- to the only person he knew would be able to help him. He hit send and dashed out of the hall, fumbling for his medication.

Greg couldn't take a look at the reply which came back instantly. “I'm on my way. Please stay calm. MH”


	6. Chapter 6

“Gregory? Greg, listen to me.”

His vision was blurred and he couldn’t focus. Greg’s heart was still racing. It shouldn’t have beaten so fast. But his pulse hammered in his ears. He could feel it in every cell of his being. Hot and white. Sheer panic streaming through his veins. 

Images floated into his mind. Greg had an out-of-body sensation and seemed to see himself from an outside perspective. Blood running down his bare body. Pain killing every other feeling, blocking every other signal his nerves could possibly transfer. But there was nothing else except-

Pain. His cheek suddenly burned. His turned his head back to the person in front of him. His view slowly focused on Mycroft who looked just as shocked as Greg was. Reality slowly soaked through his brain.

Mycroft grabbed his shoulders and heaved. “Can you finally understand me or do I have to hit you again?” Greg wasn’t able to speak yet so he merely shook his head. His breathing became slower and only now he became aware of how fast he had been breathing. He had nearly hyperventilated. 

“Greg, look at me.” Mycroft's hands let go of his jacket and carefully took hold of Gregory’s face. “Just listen to me. Don’t speak. You have to breathe. Just breathe and listen to my voice, okay? I will protect you. I promise. Robert Black will not lay a hand on you. We will bring you to my house. It’s one of the safest places in London. You will not be harmed.” As he spoke his thumbs slowly stroked over his cheeks. 

“You will be safe. I couldn’t bear it if anything ever happened to you. You will be fine.” 

Greg’s eyes filled with tears; adrenaline still rushing through his veins. His voice was barely audible as he spoke, still rough from the heavy breathing. “I don’t want to die. Not anymore. I want a future.” He clung onto Mycroft’s arms as if he was the only one who truly existed, the only one who could truly help him.

It took Mycroft a second to form an answer which did not turn into an unwanted love confession. “I hereby make it my duty to protect you from any harm. Gregory, I promise, you will have a future. You will meet a beautiful woman and have a second chance. You will be happy.” His voice broke with the last few words.

The huff from the man he loved confused him. It had sounded like amusement. He was just about to say something as Greg found his voice again. 

“I don’t want to meet another woman. I didn’t… The day I asked you to go on a date… I haven’t thought about anyone else since then. You were the only one I could think about.” Mycroft didn’t know what to say. Or do. So they stayed like that for a few more seconds, neither of them moving.

Anthea carefully approached them so they had enough time to part without haste. With a last, careful stroke Mycroft lowered his hands and prepared himself mentally.

“Sir? Your estate is ready and I took the precaution of enhancing your security level to three. The guards are ready too. We can go whenever you are ready.”

Of course, Anthea had seen everything and was glad about their first approach. In the last few weeks, she had seen her employer suffer in silence and after so many years she felt for him. She had done everything she could to make things easier for him. Adjusted meetings, changed plans a little so that Mr.Holmes had to visit New Scotland Yard a few times more than necessary. 

Without waiting for an answer, she gave a slight nod and turned around, walking towards the car. Greg let his hands drop and took a deep breath, his pulse slowly settling. 

“Mycroft?” It was only a whisper, only for them to hear. They looked at each other for a moment before he whispered another “Thank you”.

As the car set off, another two followed them to Mycroft’s building. It made Greg feel like a member of the royal family or a president. But he was just a simple cop. He didn’t deserve any of this. Not this security level, nor Mycroft’s attention.

“Stop it!” The man next to him stopped his train of thoughts with a compassionate tone. “I know what you’re thinking about and you deserve every bit of it. You’re worth every security measure.”

Greg let out a huff and turned his head to look out of the window. He shook his head, looking back at Mycroft. Anger suddenly rose within him. “Why do you even care? This is my life! It’s none of your business!”

“Detective Inspector, contrary to your beliefs, I have a great interest in your well-being.” His voice remained calm as always and it made Greg even angrier. 

“Why?” His voice was suddenly very loud and seemed to be amplified in the reduced space of the car. “You could get your information about Sherlock from other people! Why me?! Why am I so important in your little power-play?”

It took Mycroft a second to form a proper answer. “My interests are of a more private nature. But I suggest we discuss this topic further after we’ve arrived at the house.’  
“Fine” was the last thing Gregory said before a heavy silence fell over them. After the car came to a halt they got out and Greg waited for Mycroft to let them into his mansion. 

Gregory kept his hands in his coat pockets as the politician made his way through the security measurements. The were several locks and even a fingerprint scanner. Finally, they stepped into the hallway.

He knew that Mycroft earned more than he could have imagined but going by the paintings on the wall and the expensive carpet, even this estimate was two digits too small.

“May I take your coat?” Mycroft asked and Greg hurried to get out of it and handed it over. He simply kicked his shoes off and placed them next to a shelf. While Mycroft put everything away, Gregory wandered along the corridor and went into the living room. It was even more extravagant. 

The whole room was panelled with dark wood. Two wing chairs stood together with a glass topped table in between. And as if it couldn’t be more cliché there was a knight’s armor in a corner.

Greg turned around and pointed at it. “You have to be kidding me.” 

Mycroft opened a cabinet and looked over his shoulder at the armor. He turned back and read the label of a bottle of wine. “No. But don’t worry, Detective Inspector. This is not my flat. My grandmother used to live on this floor. After her death I just couldn’t bear the thought of remodeling it. I merely use the upper floor.”

Greg was taken aback for a second. “Oh, I’m sorry Mycroft.”

He took a different bottle out of the cabinet and turned towards Gregory. “There’s no need to feel sorry. You did not know. Follow me.” 

They went upstairs and through another locked door. It was like going through the wardrobe in Narnia. Everything here stood in contrast to the previous floor. The living room was furnished in a modern style, mostly decorated in black and white.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second last chapter is here :) I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> You can see this as an ending although another chapter will be uploaded soon. Anyone who isn't satisfied with my ending can just see this as one
> 
> I hope y'all have a lovely day <3

Mycroft opened another cupboard and took out two glasses of wine, along with a corkscrew. He sat down on the couch and glanced at Greg.

“Sit down, Detective Inspector. You need to calm down and take a break.” He hesitantly sat down next to him and took the proffered glass of wine.

“Thank you, Mycroft. Truly, I don’t know what I would do without you. Probably would’ve gone crazy or collapsed after hyperventilating.” He took a sip to steady his nerves . “Sorry for being mad earlier. I dunno why I acted like a twat. You just wanted to help me and I yelled at you. It’s not exactly gentlemanly behaviour.”

Mycroft looked at him for another moment. Slowly, he laid a hand upon Greg’s. “It’s fine, believe me. It was the shock and the adrenaline. Your general anxiety disorder probably contributed to your state of mind.”

Greg frowned and looked at Mycroft more closely. “How do you know about that? I only told my therapist.”

“Gregory, I have to know the most important things about everyone who stands in contact with Sherlock. I am also informed about Sergeant Donovan’s affair with Anderson, . it’s not just you.” He took a deep breath and looked at his glass of wine.

“I read your therapist’s report. It included your diagnosis of anxiety disorder and depression. I also know what you’ve told her… about me.”

Greg’s mouth stood wide open for a moment before he could think again. “What?! Not only did you invade my privacy, but you also breached medical confidentiality! Mycroft, how am I supposed to trust you like this? I didn’t -”

“Gregory!” Mycroft cut him off in the middle of the sentence. “I feel the same for you. I have for some time now.” The sound of glass on glass made Mycroft twitch as the DI put his wine down. He started to pace the room, fingers roaming through his silver hair.

After what felt like hours, Greg was still quiet so Mycroft spoke. “I thought I had to protect you. My job puts everyone who has a close relationship with me in danger . I loved you from the very beginning. I only wanted to protect you.” His voice was soft and low, different from what he was used to. “Two weeks ago, I was determined to ask you out for dinner but then I read how miserable you were and the case… I’m not allowed to work with anyone I have a personal relationship with . Actually, I should not have any personal relationships at all.”

Another long pause came, although Greg slowed down and finally stopped pacing. His hands covered his face as he murmured something inaudible.  
“Excuse me?”

“I said this is fucked up,” he murmured again and let his hands dangle at his sides. Finally, he sat down beside Mycroft again. “What are we going to do now?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Mycroft took another sip and a smile seemed to light up his face. “Every time when Sherlock was confused or defiant I made up a story about a pirate. But I don’t think this will help our situation.”

Greg couldn’t help but laugh and made himself a bit more comfortable on the sofa. “What was your relationship like? When you were young I mean? I always had the feeling that you two were very close.”

Memories came into Mycroft’s mind and he smiled. “We were. I always watched out for him. But during his adolescence, he had contact with the wrong people and a bored, clever mind like his tries to distract itself with everything possible. So he got himself into drugs. I always admired your patience with Sherlock after he had found his way back to narcotics.”

Greg poured himself another glass of wine and put the rest into Mycroft’s glass. “You’re the one who was with him all his life. Kept him out of trouble. You remember the first time you picked him up from New Scotland Yard? He was high as a kite but all I could think about was you and how much I wanted to rip that damn suit off of you.” He laughed and looked Mycroft in the eye. “Always had a thing for you.”

“Seven years.” He shook his head and looked at Greg again. “It’s been seven years since this first meeting and we only realize now that we were attracted to one another for nearly a decade?” 

Greg licked his lips and smirked. “Well, we have a lot to make up for, then.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. The last chapter of Soldier On.  
Thank you all for the amazing comments, kudos and bookmarks <3  
I hope you enjoyed the story. Have an amazing day!
> 
> Btw sorry for the delay but I was caught up in work

It felt like every bone cracked as Greg stretched on his desk chair and glanced at the clock. It was nearly four o’clock and he deserved to go home early today.

The past two months had been hard work. Robert Black had vanished after murdering the last two victims but , Mycroft’s security team hadn’t left his side for another month. At least one of the bodyguards had been a constant presence by his side. It had taken Greg four dates and a few very, very convincing reasons to finally have some time alone again. 

The past two months had been brilliant with Mycroft by his side. He had been looking forward to this evening for the past week now. Mycroft had been in the USA and Greg was busy with work so they had barely had time to even talk to one another.

Greg packed all his things and put on his coat. At last, he locked the door to his office and crossed the still busy office on his way to the carpark. 

This was the first serious relationship Greg had since his divorce and he couldn’t be happier. They got along so well and sex was fabulous. Mycroft had been shy at first but they took their time and they couldn’t get enough of each other now.

“Are we going to meet her soon?” Greg turned around to face Sally. “Who?”

“The woman who makes you smile all the time and leaving early for,” she said with a grin on her face. They had been friends for years and Greg quickly decided that he was going to take the risk now. 

“Sure, if you want, you can meet him soon. I will invite you and Anderson for a pint at my place sometime.” He got into the elevator and said goodbye to startled Donovan. 

He grinned as he crossed the car park, imagining Donovan’s face in his wake. Greg threw his briefcase on the backseat of his car and opened the front door. 

“Lestrade!” He turned around to look at the person, expecting a colleague but instead seeing Robert Black. Before he could even react he felt immense pain in his abdomen. Black pushed him against the car by his shoulder and pulled the knife out of his body.  
Greg could barely breathe and he clung onto Black’s shoulder. 

“I told you. You are the next one” he said before he stabbed Greg two more times. Voices called and shots were fired as Greg sagged onto the floor.

Before his vision faded to black he saw the face of the man he loved, who bent over him. The man he wanted to keep safe and now had to say goodbye to.


End file.
